


pin & mount me like a butterfly

by writewrongs



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Angst, Begging, Bodily Fluids, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Fingerfucking, Gratuitous Smut, Grinding, Humiliation, In Public, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Rimming, Rutting, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewrongs/pseuds/writewrongs
Summary: “I'm sorry,” Credence whimpers, eyes filling easily with tears. “I've never...”
“I know you've never.” Graves' voice is somehow harsh and kind at the same time. “I can smell it on you. Merlin's beard. You didn't know?” the one where Credence has never presented. Graves' touch brings on his first heat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well, um. I am an awful person, but this is a thing that happened. I did intend this to be a one-shot, but mentioned it on Tumblr and have since been asked many many times where it is and when it will be available and so I have decided not to make any of you lovely fellow shippers wait for the whole thing. therefore, more tags will be added for later chapters and it will get much more filthy, so, um - you were warned. I love this ship to death and I love Credence to death and if anyone would like to get all up in my face and yell dirty headcanons at each other, my tumblr is grindlywindlywald.tumblr.com - recently changed from ldolhands because that seemed to be confusing everyone, and now I am contemplating changing my url to 'credencebarebum' and I should probably be locked up.
> 
> title is from Reel Around the Fountain by The Smiths.
> 
> oh, and I've tagged both Grindelgraves and actual!Graves so you guys can pick and choose which you'd prefer. it's not exactly integral to the plot, because hey, smut! and I think that's everything, so... *sips Pinot Grigio* ... here we go.

Credence Barebone is no stranger to pain, but the ache inside him now is unlike anything he's felt before. He draws away from Graves, who is stroking the silky, shorn hair on the back of his neck. Graves does not let him go, but follows him, keeping him close. Credence has never been as close to anyone in his life. He can never remember being held this way, as if by a lover. And the only thing he can compare to this hurt is when his Ma does not allow him to eat – sometimes for days, and the hunger seems as if it wants to turn him inside out. It's as if something is pinching him deep in his guts and he is suddenly uncomfortably hot despite the inclement weather. Graves' hand on the back of his neck, and his body so near, is a welcome arrow through his heart. He sighs out, breath warm against Graves' collar and jaw.

Graves curses quietly, and his fingers are tight on Credence's jaw, pulling him away, forcing him to look at Graves. He gasps, tries to cower, and can only whimper as the ache intensifies. His body wants to bend, to double over in pain as it did when he was eight and Ma fed him soap for daring to whisper a forbidden word. He'd been sick and hunched, cramps wracking his guts until he'd been able to get to the bathroom. It feels like that, and it doesn't even occur to him to remember his biology lessons. Even if he had – he's always been told he is a freak. A person presents around the age of sixteen, and he's almost a decade older than that. 

Staring at him, Graves inhales as if he is in a perfume shop, and Credence cringes. Graves is searching his eyes, and Credence wants to look away. The man's scent is suddenly very obvious and Credence has to wonder why he's never noticed it before – but, like his warm hand and his body brushing Credence's, it's not unpleasant. It's relieving the hurt inside him. There's a sound in the air – a low rumble, vaguely threatening (but then, everything is vaguely threatening and he never questions it) – and Credence feels sweet and blossoming like a flower, like honey dripping from a knife. The sound is coming from Graves' throat. He's growling, and wet warmth suddenly gushes between his legs, sliding down his thigh, and – oh.

“Credence,” Graves says, and the sound of his name in the man's mouth is like a caress. His skin prickles like electricity. His lips part and some breathless, shapeless noise comes from him. His nipples tingle and peak beneath his shirt and his cock stirs, twitching into hardness. Of all the times, every moment he's alone in his Ma's house or literally _anywhere_ else, and _this_ is the moment nature has chosen for him to present as an omega. Right in front of the man he admires so much, the only person who has ever made him feel worthy. It seems like terrible bad luck, but it makes sense. Of course, the intensity of emotion and Graves' hands on him – they've brought this on. How perfect, and perfectly ridiculous.

“I'm sorry,” Credence whimpers, eyes filling easily with tears. “I've never...”

“I know you've never.” Graves' voice is somehow harsh and kind at the same time. “I can smell it on you. Merlin's beard. You didn't know?”

Credence shakes his head, and another painful pinch down inside him makes him gasp. Graves is pulling at his collar, unbuttoning it, bare fingers on his throat, and it helps but he's shivering now as he feels how slick and wet he's becoming. Not just from his entrance – a part of him that he's barely if ever paid any attention to – but from the tip of his prick, where he fancies he can feel every fibre of his pants against his flesh. It throbs and aches, and tears are spilling from his lashes now. He's terrified, embarrassed, desperate, needful. Wants to throw himself at Graves and _climb him like a tree_ , fall at his feet, run away – all at the same time, and cannot do anything at all.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Graves soothes, “Everything is going to be all right.” 

His arm slides around Credence's waist, pulling the boy against him, and Credence feels as if his life has just been saved. The scent of Graves is all around him and he feels out of control, like a puppet guided only by need. His thighs part without his consent and he ruts his prick slowly against Graves' thigh, unable to help himself even as he thinks _oh, how disgusting_ , ashamed of himself to the point of nausea. Graves' hand is on his behind, and Credence whines some kind of protest – he doesn't want Graves to feel how wet he is. He's been told this can be controlled, that omegas who grow wet in heat are simply sluts, but he can't see how on earth he could hold this back. Graves presses his fingers up between Credence's buttocks and he feels himself quiver, fresh slick spilling out and soaking immediately through his pants and onto Graves' fingerstips.

“Darling,” Graves whispers, “Oh, you need it bad, don't you?”

Credence moans, his cock sliding against wet fabric and hard Alpha muscle, and clings to Graves like he's drowning. He looks up into the man's face, eyes shining and panicked. Graves holds him closer, glances around the deserted little alleyway, takes a quick step back further into the shadows and Credence goes with him as if he weighs less than a feather. His back hits cold bricks, Graves' leg is between his and he feels the swell of what he instinctively knows is Graves' large Alpha cock against his thigh. He's on fire for the man and Graves presses forward so Credence is straddling his thigh. He can't hold himself back any more. He can't.

“That's it,” Graves groans as Credence begins to grind against him in earnest with a frightened, wanton moan. “That's what I want, my boy. Let go. Let it go.”

His fingers press and rub at Credence's dripping entrance through his pants and underwear and Credence feels a _flutter_ , as if his body is trying to snatch at those fingers sluttishly. He's a slut. Nothing but a dirty, deviant little omega slut. He can feel the hard length of Graves' prick against him, the bulge of his knot. Wants it. In his mouth. In his - _inside_... 

Sobbing as Graves strokes his hair and plays with his wet opening, Credence cums copiously all over his ruined underwear. It doesn't feel like completion. It feels like a dam has broken. He's crying into Graves' shoulder – he feels so dirty and sinful and he's sure this isn't how it's meant to happen – with only a few moment's touch and a kind word, in a dark alley, and he's slick almost to his knees and there's snot coming out of his nose.

Still holding him, Graves disapparates.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, sod it, I'm feeling generous, have the next part. super, super slutty omega Credence abounds.
> 
> this may be the dirtiest thing I've ever written?! oh god. help. I am in the bin and I love it.

In his apartment, Graves makes short work of undressing Credence and removing his soiled clothes to be washed. Credence shivers visibly, his slender body still betraying him with all this fluid and his erection so obvious, standing straight up towards his taut belly.

 _Touch. Touch me. Please._.

His brain so full of wanting he can barely see straight, Credence climbs naked onto the bed. He'd never do something so presumptuous under ordinary circumstances, and he hates the way his bones jut and his skin looks so pale it's almost blue, and the myriad scars and cuts on his body. Nevertheless, he is guided by something other than good manners and his vicious upbringing for once. He kneels on all fours, arches his back, grips the sheets. His thighs slide against each other, coated in slick. He can smell it – strangely sweet, along with the Alpha scent Graves is now giving out in almost paralysing waves even from the next room. He shudders in humiliation at the sensation and spreads his legs instead. This is no better. Spread open to the air, his entrance spills another wave of glossy slick, a thick rivulet down behind his tight balls. His modest omega cock is flushed with blood, parallel to his belly and pre-cum drips slowly from it, pooling on Graves' bed.

Credence hears Graves swear again, loud and sharp as he comes back into the room. 

“Credence,” he says, a reprimanding note in his voice, “You said you'd never been in heat before.”

Terror grips Credence like a hand around his throat. The fear of being accused of something he hasn't done, with no way to prove his innocence, makes him gasp and begin to cry again.

“I haven't,” he says, voice thick with tears. “I've never – I don't – please believe me...”

“Hush,” Graves says, coming to stand by the bed and reaching out a hand to stroke Credence's mussed hair. “I believe you. But you're presenting like a beautiful omega whore. It may just be your instinct.”

Credence hears 'I believe you' and 'beautiful' and feels the hand in his hair sending warm shivers over his skin and nothing else matters. He cries out, the force of his heat crashing into him fully now he has approval and they're not in public where anyone could just walk by and see him behaving like such a filthy little cunt.

Graves' fingers skid on slick from the knobs of Credence's spine to where he's so open, and slip inside him so easily with a soft, liquid sound. Credence throws his head back, cries out inarticulately, rocks his hips back so those fingers are buried inside him and he's dripping from Graves' hand.

“You're so _wet_ ,” Graves murmurs, “How debauched. Aren't you filthy?”

His words are like deft strokes to Credence's prick. He can't help it, he cums for the second time without any contact – streams of white gleaming on Graves' bedspread along with the puddle of pearly pre that's already there. Graves slips his fingers out and just rubs him again, gently, letting him recover, but the attention only results in more and more slick running down Graves' wrist. He hears the man groan and feels himself pulled to the edge of the bed. 

“Stand on the floor, like that, there's my boy.” 

Credence obeys without thinking. If Graves had said, “Now fly out the window, there's my boy.” he's sure he would soar right through the glass. His eyes are closed and he leans on his elbows, pressing his face into the blankets. Hands on his buttocks, spreading them so wide he whimpers and shakes his head in shame. And then – what – what is Graves doing – it's so good, so hot and gliding, it's his mouth, oh no, that's not – that's so impure. Graves _licks_ him slowly from perineum to tail bone, moaning appreciatively into his ass.

“Fuck, you're delicious,” he snarls, and there's a sharp pain he recognizes as a bite to his left cheek. “I want to eat you alive.”

High-pitched whimpers are racing out of Credence's mouth. 

“Please!” he sobs, seeing rainbows through his tears and the light from the balcony. 

“Are you all right?”

He gulps painfully, gasps in a much-needed lungful of air.

“Yes, oh – I'm fine – oh, Mr Graves – ”

Graves' mouth is on him again, sucking at his rim, making such awful sinful appreciative slurping noises which only make Credence's entrance twitch around his tongue and yield more slick for him to drink. He spreads himself wider, Graves moans into him, and he leans forward so his prick slides against the blankets. Graves growls and works a hand between the inverted v of his thighs and gives him his palm – warm and callused, to rut into. He catches the spill of cum when Credence climaxes again a few moments later and then turns him around, urging him backwards onto the bed and covering him with his body, covering Credence's mouth with that wet, glossy palm. 

“Lick it,” he rasps. “My dirty little fucker.”

Credence does. He tastes his own shame and debauchery and wants more. When his mouth is full of it Graves kisses him fiercely, tonguing his teeth and the roof of his mouth and sucking on his lips. Credence is helpless under him. The man is still fully clothed, rutting his Alpha prick against Credence's bare thigh. He feels the knot, swelling and pulsing. He reaches between them, suddenly shy again despite the fact that Graves has just eaten and drunk him like he's communion.

Graves breaks the kiss, a wicked smirk on his lips instead as he kneels up between Credence's legs. Credence feels his face grow hot as he chases the contact, his hand cupped over the shape of Graves' prick, exploring it with his fingers. He looks at Graves' face, watches his eyes slip closed and the low moan that escapes him makes him shudder again.

_Split me in half._

The thought comes out of nowhere and Credence barely knows the meaning of what he's thinking. He's just picturing this huge cock sliding into him, into his body. Letting Graves inside his body. The image of his own – his – dripping like a peach, splitting open for Graves and his love and his prick and he feels as if he's going to vomit adoration all over himself again and again, just thinking of it.

He swoons and Graves catches him, pressing another kiss to his wet lips and quickly disposing of his own clothes. He's floating, but the shock of skin on skin brings him back and he twines his long pale limbs around Graves, pulling him in, wanting, _wanting_...

Graves moans, hand between Credence's legs again, making sure he's truly ready. He could not be more ready. Graves licks away the slick that's on his fingers and whispers,

“Sweet boy.”

Credence opens his eyes languidly, looks up at the man kneeling between his legs and as if in a dream, he reaches down to spread his cheeks apart. It must be instinct again, because oh, what a thing to do. Slut. _Slut_.

Graves' cock is very wet at the tip, so thick and warm and poised between his thighs. He slides the tip up and down over Credence's hole, teasing him, pressing in ever so slightly. Making him arch and cry out and try to slip onto him. He's never wanted anything more in his life.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet boy. You want it so bad. I'll give it to you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings* lalalala, I am in the bin. ^^; good grief. late twenties is old enough to know better. nevertheless, here is the third installment of The Filthiest Thing I Have Ever Written (TM) and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> also, if you do feel like joining me in being a filthmonger, my tumblr is now grindlywindlywald.tumblr.com (because I love him, I can't help it - I loved the scary bastard when he was in Harry Potter and I still do!) so come and have a virtual hug and love-in over slut!Credence and I may also be writing him with sweet Newt. <3

Graves seizes him by the cheeks and drives inside him in one deep stroke. Despite the copious anounts of slick (and if he could think of anything else except wanting Graves' cock, Credence would wonder if all omegas in heat get so wet or if it's just him), it stings as the head finally slips past his rim. He keens, neck arching, mouth open.

“Little whore,” Graves says, his knot twitching inside the boy. “Spreading yourself open for me, all begging and pretty and wet. You're mine. My omega.”

There's so much reverence in the way he says 'omega', and Credence feels like he's going to float away, but Graves is anchoring him, pistoning his hips hard and fast and _yes_ , this – this is what he so desperately needs. 

“Mr Graves, Mr Graves!” Credence cries out, “Yes!”

He's cumming again before he can think, with the sweet stretch and slide of that huge Alpha knot in him. Clenching around it, slick dripping over Graves' balls and thighs. It's a little better, this time, when he comes back. He doesn't feel the pinch inside him any more, but he wants Graves more than ever. Again, and again.

Graves grins down at him, runs his fingers through the cum on his stomach, gathering it. Then he sucks them into his mouth, licks it all off, scoops up more – there's so _much_ of it – and slides his slippery fingertip over Credence's lips like rouge. Credence's tongue circles the tip, tasting himself again. His prick twitches, spilling another drip of cum over his skin.

Graves holds him by the hips again, hands covered in cum and slick shaped perfectly over Credence's prominent juts of bone and now he's rocking slowly, opening Credence up further, thrust by thrust. Credence's heels skid against the bed and he moans out, needing it faster, harder, more, _now_. He can't see the crooked smile on Graves' face with his eyes closed.

“You're so tight,” Graves sighs, “Credence. Have you ever been fucked?” Credence barely hears him. He's squirming in Graves' unyielding grip. Graves runs his thumbs across the pale taut skin of his abdomen, through puddles and streaks of pre-cum. “Credence. Answer me, now. This is your first heat, but has anyone fucked you before?”

“No...” It's hardly even a word, just a breathless sound. He's almost delirious with desire, “Mr Graves – I need...” 

“I want to hear you say it, darling boy. Tell me you want my cock.”

“I want it – oh, oh please...”

“What do you want?”

Credence looks up at Graves, pleading with him. He's never said those words – he doesn't know _how_... Graves is moving so slowly, pushing into him a little at a time and it's almost worse than having nothing at all. His eyes darken, biting down on his lip as something _shifts_ within him and he glares up at the Alpha, eyes pale. Graves knows what he needs, has done since the alley, Credence _knows_ he does, and he's still _not giving it_. Credence feels wild, afraid, and as needful as a slut in the deepest circle of hell.

“Split me in half.” he says, giving voice to the dirty unexpected words in his head, low and pleading. “I want you to put your cock back inside my body, and go as fast as you can.”

Graves loses it. With one swift motion he's to the hilt inside Credence, and Credence wraps his long legs around Graves' waist, wanting him deeper still. He's sobbing in relief and pain – his body accepting Graves' huge Alpha prick with an ease that would be frightening if he did not need it so badly.

“You fucking little harlot,” Graves snarls, “You'll unman me.”

He kisses Credence again, wet and open, all dewy slide of saliva and the taste of omega cum and Credence sigh-moans into it and hooks his arms around Graves' neck, keeping him close. Graves is thrusting hard inside him now, exactly like he needs, and growling in his ear. Another orgasm takes him by surprise, spurting so much fluid between their bodies that Credence has a moment of panic – but Graves just moans into his ear, licking the tears from his neck. It's perfect. All he can do is hold onto Graves and whimper-moan-sob-beg, pleading with him not to stop, _don't ever, don't ever stop..._

All too soon, Graves goes still, his pubic hair wet with slick flush against Credence's backside, his knot pulsing inside him as he cums with a roar. Now, the orgasm is quaking and powerful, shaking Credence from his very core. He feels is as soon as the hot rush of Alpha cum fills him – so much, it's spilling out around Graves' cock with this vile, _obscene_ sound. Graves is holding him tightly, one arm around his waist, the other holding up his considerably heavier weight so he doesn't crush the breath out of Credence's body. He's panting so hard it forms yet more wetness on Credence's smooth skin. 

“How many times did you cum?” he asks after a few moments.

Credence isn't even sure what he means for a moment, he's feeling more bliss than he has ever dared to dream he would feel ever, but he has to locate his brain and give it a swift kick into action lest he displease this man – Mr Graves, Alpha, the man who has been so good to him. 

“I – I think, five...” he whispers, eyes slipping closed again.

“Do you want more?”

_More?_ Yes, he wants more. Wants to do this all night and forever, but his eyes are heavy. 

“Cock,” he says dreamily, “Put your cock in my mouth. Screw me.”

And Graves is stroking his hair and spreading him wider, turning his body so that they're side by side and he can rub and press and thrust into him this way. Credence moans, unfocused eyes on the Alpha's face.

“Kiss me again,” he pleads. “Kiss me one more time.”

Graves obliges.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> argh, this somehow got even more filthy? I feel like I should send J.K. some flowers to apologize for doing this to her boys. but ungh, Graves talking dirty seems to be my drug of choice right now. I am definitely living up to my username with this chapter. yup. rude dirty sex all over the place. enjoy.
> 
> as always, if you wish it, follow me on tumblr at grindlywindlywald.tumblr.com for headcanons, lovely fanart, and soon, a fanmix. also me being terrible. <3

Credence falls asleep with Graves still inside him, with the man's limbs wrapped around him. When he wakes, with the heat raging once again only a little while later, there are many more kisses, slow and open. In the days that follow, Credence will remember every detail of being taken. He will think for hours about the fact that Graves always fucked him face-to-face, never turned him around and drove into him from behind. Graves keeps him close. As close as his own skin. 

In the moment, though, every coherent thought has left his head. Credence's body bows and bucks against Graves, legs clinging around his waist. Graves unhooks those legs and pushes them up above his head, changing the angle so sharply and deeply, it makes Credence _yelp_ like he's been stabbed. He sees stars and cums again immediately, ripping at the bedclothes with his fists. Graves is sweat-drenched now and he fairly stinks of Alpha, and Credence can feel every hair on his chest against his own smooth skin. It prickles and stings and the smell is strong and sour, contrasting with the musky, strangely sweet scent of his own slick. 

“Gonna make me cum again, you smell so good.” Graves tell him, licking at his ear, open-mouthed kisses to his cheek. “Let me cum in your mouth.” 

Any remaining scrap of dignity Credence may have retained so far dissolves. 

“Yes,” he sobs, “Please!”

“Do you like this?” Graves snarls and it's a question but he knows it's not. 

“I do, oh, Mr Graves, yes!”

“You like my cock?”

“I do!” Credence moans, and Graves strokes his cheek, full weight resting on top of him as he thrusts harder and Credence cannot breathe, cannot see straight.

“You want me to cum in your face?”

“Please!” 

Credence finds himself pushed to the floor before he has time to think – his hole twitching and so very empty without Graves' cock in him, and a mess of Alpha cum and slick bubbles down his inner thighs to swirl and puddle on the floor between his legs. Graves is standing over him, hand wrapped around his impressive girth, fingers and tip glistening with slick. 

“This is for you,” he groans, “Put your mouth on me.”

Once he says it, it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Credence leans forward and wraps his mouth around the blood-dark tip, eyes fluttering closed. The taste explodes on his tongue, some unexplainable flavour that makes saliva spurt in his mouth so quickly it hurts. 

“So beautiful,” Graves sighs from above him, “Come on, darling – I'm close – oh, Goddamn... yes, like that...”

Credence whimpers, opening his mouth so wide and letting Graves press against his tongue. He sucks hard, purely on instinct, and Graves' thumb presses against his cheek, feeling the shape of himself in Credence's mouth. _His cock is in my mouth._ Credence thinks, and finds his hand wandering to his own prick.

“Oh, my little slut.”

The toe of Graves' boot slips between his legs – he never took off his trousers or shoes, Credence realises now, and the front of his smart black pants are saturated with slick – so much of it, it's almost – like he couldn't make it to the bathroom, or something. There's a sharp shock of lust in Credence's chest at the thought, Graves presses his foot up between Credence's buttocks, his leg against Credence's dripping erection. Credence moans, clamping his thighs around it, slick spilling over Graves' shoe as he grinds against Graves' shin helplessly.

“Shameless little whore.” Graves says, breathless. “I know what you need.”

He leans over, pushing his prick further into Credence's throat as he goes. One hand strokes Credence's silky hair, possessive and warm on the back of his neck, and the other reaches between his legs and strokes two fingertips over his quivering entrance. 

“Fuck yourself.” Graves commands. “With your fingers.”

He wants _Graves'_ fingers, not his own. But he's so empty. And if he does as he's told, maybe Graves will take him again. So he reaches behind, hips still rocking against Graves's shin, soaking the fabric with pre-cum. His fingers are cold, and the first one slips in so easily. Graves is watching him, distracted from fucking his mouth for a moment and Credence works his lips and tongue around him. 

“Yes,” Graves purrs, “Another. I know you want another – look how wet you are. I could fuck you with four fingers and my cock and you'd still want more, you lovely, avaricious little cunt.”

Credence can feel his own searing heat and satiny wetness around his fingers and he can't help bearing down on them, curling and twisting them inside himself. Graves' words are just as satisfying as the physical contact. He can't hold back, and when Graves begins moving in his mouth again, he wails around him and cums spectacularly over Graves' pants.

Graves is cursing and groaning on every breath, every thrust. He gropes for Credence's hand – the one that isn't very much otherwise occupied, which has been clutched in Graves' pocket – and wraps it around his knot. 

“Stroke me,” he grunts, pushing Credence away. His prick leaves Credence's lips with a liquid pop, and Credence realises he's been dribbling pre-cum and saliva down his chin and neck. He feels a twist of shame but Graves just growls and spreads the mess with his thumb before his eyes scrunch closed in ecstasy. Credence feels the knot throb, squeezes it, which was apparently the right thing to do because Graves roars again and thick white gleaming liquid spurts over Credence's lips. He knocks Credence's hand away and strips his prick so fast it's like a blur, and Credence has to close his eyes as he feels the warm stripes of Alpha cum painting his face.

“Oh, fuck,” Graves moans after a moment. “Perfect. You're perfect.” He goes to move away, but Graves' hand on the back of his neck stops him. “No,” Graves says, “Stay like this. I never want to forget the way you look now. So pretty, so debauched, covered in my cum and fingering yourself like the sweetest, sweetest slut.”

Credence has never heard such praise.

“And you've cum all over me, darling.” Graves continues, “You've wet everything. Dirty boy.”

Credence shivers in delight. 

“Please,” he says again, for what feels like the thousandth time today, “Please.”  
  
“Again?” Graves says, and Credence opens his eyes to find Graves looking down at him, arching one thick dark eyebrow. “Not yet. I want to taste you another time first.”


End file.
